


The Party Never Stops

by TheMostCleverBot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cheating, Clubstuck, Developing Relationship, F/F, Gratuitous Appreciation of Electronica Music, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Strider Bros own a club together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMostCleverBot/pseuds/TheMostCleverBot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dirk Strider, and you're tasked with the arduous responsibility of helping your brothers run a popular night club. That sounds simple enough, but the patrons and Bro make the job a lot wilder than it probably should be. Between managing the club, your mushy feelings for Jake English, and trying to keep both your brothers and friends out of trouble, you don't have much time to actually sit back and relax. But you wouldn't trade this job for anything else in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Party Never Stops

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's important to note that Dirk is going to be the main focus of the story. However, there will be chapters centered around the development and involvement of other characters. All in all, the main focus here is the Strider Bros and the establishment that they run together. 
> 
> Also: expect the use hyperlinks when it comes to the music. By all means, you don't have to listen, but it definitely aids in the experience of this story.

**== >  Be Dirk**

Your name is Dirk Strider. You are twenty four years old, and have been for quite a few months. You consider yourself to be quite the hotshot, given by your attire which usually consists of any assortment of skinny jeans, your white graphic tee and how you can hardly ever seem to give any type of shit whatsoever. You generally do what you want, when you want, and given your occupation - that shitty nightclub you run with both of your brothers - there’s really not much reason to ever worry about throwing away as much cash as you're apt to. Right now, however, you’re sitting outside, in the cold, 2 AM air, waiting for your Bro who was supposed to be here an increasingly long time ago.

A glance down to your watch certainly agrees with you, the hands slowly ticking their way to being almost three in the morning. You shuffle around a bit on the bench you’re sitting on, setting the crinkled, white paper bag containing the food your Bro told you to pick up for him before speeding off to God-knows-where. You sigh and lean back, idly sipping your mostly empty milkshake, then grab your phone from your pocket. You swipe to unlock it, pressing the buttons almost rhythmically by how often you’ve used it. A moment passes by before you actually press the button to call him, the sigh that you release, from how absolutely predictable this was, fading with your icy-breath into the darkness of night.

After a few moments of listening to his ringtone - some shitty anime music, [Sorairo Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNQvLECht08) or something, you don’t really remember - his face fills your phone’s screen, as does the sudden blare of way-too-loud electronica. When he speaks, it’s almost completely inaudible, despite him quite obviously having to yell to even be heard.

“He-e-e-eeeey, Dirk! How’s it hanging, man? Is this place crazy tonight or what?!”

You just stare at him for a moment from behind your shades, before speaking in a level tone,  “Bro. Where are you right now?”

“Where am I? C’mon man, where do you think I am? The real question is where are YOU at?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, inhaling sharply, before gently pushing your glasses down so you can get a proper look at your older brother. Just under thirty, or so he tells you, while still being jacked in terms of muscles and with facial hair that was sharp enough to quite possibly slice through steel. If you had to wager, anyway.

“Bro,” You start, the irritation in your voice quite clear just from the single word. “You left me at this place when I went in to get food. You said you’d _be right back_ , and guess what? It’s-,” You glance down to your watch, then back up to him. “Almost 2:30. I’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour.”

He opens his mouth to speak, before flipping the camera function of his phone off. In the darkness, you can still quite obviously hear him running downstairs and then outside, before slamming the door of his car.

“On my way already, dude. Gimme ten.”

“You are most definitely not on your way. I just saw you in the club.”

“Traffic, man. You know how it gets. I’ve been sitting here waiting to come get you for the past thirty minutes.”

You open your mouth to respond, but stop short. You look around you, for any sign that there would even remotely be any kind of traffic, but the silence around you as well as the sheer lack of any other cars is a good enough answer. You really have no idea what to say by this point, and instead just tell him to hurry the hell up. You also make up some excuse for him to hurry by saying it’s chilly, but you’re sitting outside in quite literally a t-shirt and jeans, and you think you’re almost breaking a sweat from the humidity. You disconnect the call without listening to his response, if he even had one, before scrolling through your contacts once more, stopping short as your thumb lands on Jake. You hesitate for a moment, debating between scrolling again or actually just biting the bullet and calling him, before finally deciding on the latter.

You sit in almost complete silence, interrupted every few seconds by the ringing going off. Just as you’re about to give up and end the call, Jake’s face suddenly envelops the entirety of your phone’s screen, a wide smile on his face. Despite it being relatively late, he seems awake and eager as always. Most of the friends you make have to be, given your line of work.

“Jake. I’m headed back to the club in ten. Been a while, you wanna hang out?”

Before he can speak, you’re already saying your peace. You’ve learned that with Jake, if you don’t want to have an hour long conversation, you have to say what you want and make sure you lead the conversation, otherwise he has a tendency to go off on tangents of all sorts. You’re also sure to flash him a sly smile and a wink, before realizing just how dumb that actually is because you’re wearing your shades. 

He seems to consider for just a moment longer than what you would imagine to be comfortable in normal conversation, though as usual, his thought process seems to be a complete mystery to you. After what seems like an eternity, he finally responds. “Sure thing, Strider! Can you give me a bit to get things taken care of? I’m afraid I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

You have no idea what the ever-loving fuck Jake could be doing at 2 AM, but you’ve learned not to question his antics. He’s prone to doing weird shit all the time, at least in your experience. “You know, I’m not even gonna question that. Meet you there in a little bit.”

“Brill! See you then, Dirk!” The video chat goes dead on his end, and thank God for that. Surprisingly, that didn’t drag out as much as you thought it would.

You breathe in, exhaling slowly, and though you half-expected to see your breath given how late Autumn is just around the corner, you aren’t surprised when it doesn’t happen. Your hand moves to gently wipe at your brow before you go back to your phone. One more call to make, just to let them know you’re on the way.

You find his name in no time, and after a very brief moment, Equius’ solemn, olive-skinned, forever-hateful face shows up. Your phone immediately explodes with the dull buzz of electronica music, though it’s barely even legible from where he’s at. In the background, you can idly make out his girlfriend - that wannabe hobo hipster that you’re pretty sure is convinced she’s actually a cat - or whatever the hell their relationship is. Honestly, Equius kind of creeps you out, so you’ve never really bothered getting acquainted with his intimate life. You hesitate for just a moment, shaking the thought out of your mind.

“Yo, EQ. I’m coming back, and I’ll be there in ten. I’ve got a friend coming - I’m sure you know which one.”

His voice is dull, bordering the fine line that would be monotone, almost a whisper of sorts though still somehow entirely understandable, “Right. So, in the situation he arrives here instead of the back exit to take your personal elevator, you want me to instruct him to use the back entrance as usual. Is that correct?” As usual, he drags out his sentences for way too long, and in a single breath. You’re really not sure how the hell he’s able to do that kind of thing at all.

“...Yeah. Only if you catch him though, since it’s gonna be about an hour before he shows up probably. Right around when everyone starts ditching. You and Nep can call it quits early if you want, I don’t think we’re gonna have any issues tonight. There’s nobody around.” You glance about as if to punctuate your point. The only sounds coming from anywhere nearby are the very distant sounds of police sirens and the dull, bass-maxed music coming from your phone.

“While it is certainly appreciated, Boss, I am afraid that I cannot accept your...proposal. I have been instructed to work a pre-determined number of hours, and slacking off as well as leniency is just something that I can...not abide by. Therefore, I will leave when the aforementioned hours have been run up-” There seems to be some kind of struggle for his phone. If he wasn’t built like a fucking freight train on steroids, you might even be a little bit worried for him.

The camera on the phone is thrown back and forth, with Equius’ and another voice being muffled by the song which had apparently just reached the drop; the climax, that is. After a few seconds of you waiting for him to quite literally rip whoever was assaulting him in half, Nepeta’s rather dark-skinned face appears on the screen, though it’s mostly covered by that dirty, ragged cat-hat she likes to wear.

“We, and that is to say that, I am going to gladly accept the night off-” There is apparently another struggle for the phone, and Equius’ voice is very evident in the background, yelling about how inappropriate the entire situation was. Nepeta very briefly reappears on the phone, yelling something incoherent about how they’ll be leaving very shortly, though you can hear very obvious complaints coming from Equius’ in the background. You don’t even really answer them before just ending the call.

You lean back into the bench once again, going for another sip of your milkshake before realizing it was empty. You idly chuck the thing into the bin to the side, and briefly consider going back in for another one before your ears are suddenly assaulted by the sound of something that sounds like an explosion in the distance. You’re on your feet before you even realize what you’re doing, stepping to the curb and glancing into the direction you heard the sound. Around a curve comes a shitty, burnt-orange Pinto that honestly looks like it could have been the source of the explosion just by the sheer amount of rust and damage done to the exterior. You’re honestly surprised the thing didn’t just combust when whoever was driving it turned it on.

The car continues down the road, zipping past you going something like eighty miles an hour before the brakes suddenly come on and the car screeching to a slow, and eventually a standstill, but not before skidding twenty feet or so. The reverse lights come on, and slowly back up until the passenger side mirror is in front of you. The entire spectacle took less than ten seconds, but it felt like you were watching a one-person car crash in slow motion. The thing is so unbelievably shitty, you can’t even imagine for a second who-

The car window comes down after a second, and Bro’s nervously smiling face sticks out the window.

“Hey, li’l man. Here just on time, like I said. Ready to go?”

You stand there, dumbstruck for a moment, before stepping back to the bench and grabbing the white paper bag you left there. You come back, open the door and hop into the passenger side wordlessly, passing the bag over to your brother who ravenously tears the thing open and grabs the cold fries inside, shoving four or so in his mouth.

You sit, exasperated for a moment, before you finally pull yourself together enough to speak, “Where the hell did you even get this thing?”

It takes Bro a minute to finish chewing, and by that point he’s already started driving off, back towards a road that you know from experience will take you straight back to the club. He doesn’t even seem to register the question, though he responds just as you go to ask the question again.

“It’s a loan from Slick while our other car is in the shop. Something wrong with the transmission or something equally dumb. Can’t be helped, probably.”

You roll your shoulders into an idle shrug, leaning back into the chair which smelled oddly of dusty old leather and somewhat like wood varnish. You’re not even really sure how you know what wood varnish smells like, but that’s what you've decided that second scent is. 

“Yeah, but this thing? You could’ve dipped a bit farther into our funds to get yourself something that doesn’t sound and look like it’s about to burst into flames every few seconds.”

Bro furrows his brow a bit, glancing over at you - while driving - and responding, “Yeah, but Slick promised me he wouldn’t cheat me on this one like the other times. Besides, that explosion was just the muffler, it does that when you pull this thing over sixty.” As he was speaking, he’d managed to pull into the incoming traffic lane, though you weren’t especially worried as there was literally nobody outside or on the roads at all. He quickly notices, and after panicking for a moment and jerking the wheel fairly hard, you realign yourselves on the correct road.

You sit without speaking for ten or so minutes, the only sounds being your brother occasionally digging into the bag and eating a few fries all at once. Eventually, faded sounds of music slowly start to engulf the night air, and your three story building that you rented - and eventually bought for your nightclub - comes into view. The outside was just brick that wasn’t painted and served to look old and decrepit, as you originally wanted to keep it on the down-low, but after a while, you went completely all out with it and as a result, have made the name Strider quite well known in the city. The only thing to really note about the building was a bright pink neon sign that hung over the doorway, and though the sign was pretty large compared to the building itself, it was actually a bit on the small side. 

You inhale slightly as your eyes finally pass over the sign. One of the letters had gone out in recent days, but it looks like Bro had done something useful and actually replaced it. A few blocks over where you were eating, there was nobody on the roads, but near the club, a myriad of cars and people were all positioned haphazardly. The dull roar of music had changed to being almost completely audible, blanketed by the thick walls that made up the entirety of the building. You can’t quite make out the song as you pull into the garage Bro had constructed next to the club. He pulls the car into a reserved parking spot on the bottom floor. You sit in silence for a moment, taking in the atmosphere, before stepping out of the car and glancing to your brother.

He's already walking away, stopping only to pull out his keys and use the remote to lock the thing. You follow him, but by the time you turn the corner out of the parking garage, he's already gone. Which was more than fine with you, but you wanted to tell him to be on the lookout for Jake, and to leave the key in the usual spot. But now that you think about it, that's kind of dumb as nobody ever moves the key, and you probably would have just made yourself look like an ass by suggesting it.

You sigh, though it’s muffled by the echoes of people talking. More so yelling because of how loud the music was now that you were actually outside of the club. You can very clearly make out the song, given how long you’ve been in this business, as Sporty-O’s [Let Me Hit It](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3oOQ8XnQWU). That Audiostalker Mix, the actual version doesn’t even compare, obviously. Nice song to make an entrance too, you guess.

The sidewalk you use to make your way to the club has a few people sitting and standing along it, though most seem much too preoccupied to pay you any mind aside from a girl who pays you a wink and a gentle caress of your arm as you pass by. A shame, you guess, ‘cause even though she’s cute, you don’t exactly play for that team. You smile back at her, a flashy, sly smile, before finally turning back around and making your way to the entrance.

You stop short of entering, letting the music pick up to make sure your entrance is as amazing as possible, as well as taking a moment to glance up to the neon sign. “Lil Cal’s Pleasure Palace”. You read the words and as you do, you can feel yourself subconsciously shrug and sigh. Definitely not what you would have named the place, but Bro was adamant about it, and seeing as how he was the person who financed the building the most, you couldn’t really turn him down. The name picked up fairly well you guess, but God, if it wasn’t the most stupid thing you think you could have ever named a club.

Your head tilts over to a rather large cardboard box that sat beside the entrance. You recognize it as the area Nepeta and Equius usually stand (though Nepeta has taken a liking to actually sitting on the box, and you’re not really sure how that’s possible unless she literally weighs less than a hundred pounds). You guess they actually took your permission to leave and are off doing their own thing. You have no idea what they even do with their lives, but you assume it’s probably standing in front of the Pleasure Palace as bouncers and occasionally going to the gym.

Your attention turns back to the doors and you can hear the song start to near its climax, with that seemingly never-ending stream of “Hit It Girl"'s echoing from the inside. You give it a moment, styling back your hair with a single hand so that it's a little less messy, but presentably messy. Fashion wasn’t something you were immediately into, but you’d be damned if you didn’t care about how your hair looked on a daily basis. You breathe deep, taking a moment to wait just as the beat dropped-

Then you shove open the doors just as the words “Drop it!” explode from near-silence, the song starting to pick up once again.

Immediately, you see a few heads turn to you; either from opening the doors and making quite the noise, or just from how amazingly flawless and stunning you are. You choose to believe the second option, given how many people keep their eyes locked on you. You’re sure to flash a smirk to the crowd, your hand again moving to slick back your hair. You make a finger-gun towards nobody in particular, though you’re sure you can hear a swoon or two. You best be careful, lest you accidentally knock somebody out from just how inherently amazing you are. Your eyes slowly turn to the left corner, where the bar is located, and you quickly move yourself over there.

You immediately find yourself a stool to sit on, one that’s isolated from the two or so people who are also at the bar, and lean over the counter to gently tap against the granite surface. An extremely pale, freckled red-head turns about to face you, starting to already speak with the generic ‘how may I serve you’ speech, before she quickly realizes it's you. Her lips purse into a wide smirk, and despite her bright-red glasses you can vaguely make out her eyes lighting up as she sees you.

“Dirk,” her shrill voice comes out, again in a yell due to the sheer roar of the crowd and the even louder explosion of music coming from behind you. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You straighten your posture slightly, and you can’t help but grin back to her. Terezi certainly did have that strange charm about her. “Hey, TZ. Just checking up on things. Bro left me at the place we went to eat again, big surprise. Seriously, nobody saw that one coming. It came completely out of left field.” You crack a wide smirk, and Terezi seems to definitely enjoy the sarcasm, a giggle escaping her.

Her lips purse for a moment to speak, before a pair of caramel arms come crashing onto the table, along with a cute, drunk blonde mess. You’re almost entirely sure that she just rammed her face down on the table, though she still has a drink in one of her hands. You’re not really sure what kind. You wait a moment, and when she doesn’t rise, you gently poke her mop of blonde hair.

“Roxy. Hey, Rox. You alive down there,” you ask, only the vaguest hint of concern in your voice. She’s taken worse spills given how she mostly drinks instead of serves when she’s behind the bar. 

She gives a thumbs up with her free hand, before pushing herself back up, her chin resting gently against her open palm, elbow on the counter. She flutters her eyes at you for a moment, giving a slight wink that you’re not even sure was a wink. It might just be her trying to blink and fucking up, given how she absolutely reeks of alcohol at the moment. You’re not really sure, to be honest.

“Heeeey, Dirk,” comes the response, a bit louder than what would be reasonable even for this place. “Comin’ to see your best pal ROXY, yeah? Your bestest best friend in the whole club, issat it?” Her words are vaguely slurred, though given how she seems to always be drunk, she seems to be completely used to this and not even abated in the slightest. In fact, you can understand everything she said, oddly enough.

“Yeah, something like that,” you say tersely. Speaking with Roxy is always kind of a chore, seeing as how you’re pretty sure she’s 200% into you. Really, there’s not even the question of if she’s into you, it’s more like how into you she actually is. Given your sexual disposition towards women, however, it often just makes speaking with her quite the experience. “Just came to make sure you girls were fully stocked and actually had work to do. I let EQ and Nepeta leave early, figured you guys might like the same privilege.”

Terezi, quite immediately, gives you a thumbs up. She opens her mouth and words definitely come out, though the song is dying down and the roar of the crowd overtakes her. You vaguely manage to catch something about “thanks” and “tomorrow”, and you wave her off as she quickly leaves. Roxy’s still looking at you, however, in that same position.

“I’ve...gotta go check on Dave, Rox. Make sure the kid’s not about to die from exhaustion, yeah? He’s been in that booth for a few hours.”

Roxy shoves her lower lip outwards in what might be the largest pout you’ve ever seen in your entire life. And given your life, you’ve seen quite a few. You sigh a bit, holding out your fist to Roxy, then offering a quick, reassuring nod, “I’ll talk to you when you get back in tomorrow, yeah? C’mere. I know you want the fist bump. Nobody can feel bad or deny the fist bump.”

She moves her hand from her chin to fist bump you, but in her drunken stupor apparently forgot it was supporting her, and as a result, she falls down onto the counter again. Still managed to get that fist bump in, though. You shake your head a bit before lightly patting her own, and pick yourself up, turning about and moving towards the far right corner where the doorway to the maintenance hallways are.

As you finally hit into the somewhat dwindling crowd, the next song starts picking up. The sound of what you can only assume to be shitty, low quality and horribly rendered lasers starts to pick the place up. A few yells of delight fill the air, and you’re pretty sure you can hear a bottle shatter somewhere across the room. You do your best to not actively have to shove anyone out of your way, but some people definitely don’t get that you’re a busy man who's in quite the hurry, and you inevitably end up doing so regardless. As you’re pushing through, you also feel yourself getting grabbed at and groped, but by this point you’re more than used to it. In fact, it’d be a miracle if a single day went by and someone didn’t grab at your junk when you’re just trying to go hang out with a friend or something.

You finally make your way to the other side of the massive square building, pulling a small key card out of your wallet. You slip it into the lock on the side of the massive, yellow door labelled “Maintenance: DO NOT ENTER”, and then casually slip inside. The door locks behind you, though you turn around and jiggle the handle slightly to make sure. The music here is extraordinarily muffled as the walls are fitted to block out the sound, but you’re fairly sure you hear the music bellow out “Destroy them with lasers!” before reverting back to the beat that you’re sure would be fucking sick were it not completely butchered behind the walls.

You turn about again, glancing around the room before walking to the door that leads into the actual maintenance hallway. The room you’re in is just a storage room with a doorway that leads outside. You unlock the door that leads into the proper tunnels, and as you walk in, you almost bump into what you can only assume to be a mass of black clothing and make-up.

“Hey, watcth where you’re going, athhole,” the raspy lisp of a voice came out. His head turned down, before his lips wrapped into an obvious frown. “Oh, it’th you-” You immediately place the lisp as a result of the pacifier he’s keeping lodged in his mouth. “Thorry. You know how it ith, people get back here all the time and mesth with shit they shouldn’t be.”

You give him a slight nod in response, moving to the side to let him pass, before shooting a glance back. “Hey, Sollux. You seen Aradia anywhere? Wanted to tell her to check on something.”

The very aesthetically open goth kid stands straight, just over six feet tall if you had to guess, and his eyes glance to you curiously, obvious behind those shitty 3-D glasses he’d popped the lenses out of. He shoves his hands into his pockets, then leans back against the door, letting it close against him. His baggy, black pants shake idly as he digs around in them, before pulling out a small walkie-talkie. “She’th upthairs. I’ll radio ahead and tell her to meet you up there.”

You flash him a thumbs up to which he mirrors. Kind of a spooky kid, hanging out by himself in the maintenance rooms, but he means well enough you suppose. You had your goth phase too. He just kinda...kept it, you guess. Aradia was the same, but somehow managed to be even worse, going as far as to even cover herself in that gray make-up that honestly just made her seem like a freak instead of dead, like you’re probably sure she wanted to look.

You quickly unlock the service elevator, then step inside, pressing the button to go to the second floor. It quickly springs to life, and after a few seconds of waiting in silence, the doors open to the sound of [Destroy Them With Lazers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NKTpWi5itOM) playing again. You step out onto what little flooring is available. Most of the second floor was simply balconies that overlooked the bottom floor. You recognize the ornaments that you had hung up earlier that year. Mostly, they were just CDs that had scratches over parts of them, but they weren’t even really noticeable unless you glanced up or noticed the lights that reflected off of them. In the center of them is a giant beat-mesa, with a scratch halfway through it, easily recognizable as Dave wore a print of the thing on most of his shirts.

You lean over the balcony, glancing down at the large crowd, which you note to be slowly collapsing in size due to how close you were to closing. A quick glance at your watch showed it was nearing 3 AM, and you were scheduled to close in an hour. Didn’t stop people from staying to about six, though.

You barely note the pair of bright, gray hands that grab onto the railing beside of you, An idle glance over confirms your suspicions that it was Aradia, though you’re taken aback like you are every time you see her. That massive mess of black hair fell wherever it pleased, covering a large portion of her face which had heavy coatings of make-up all over it. She wore the same outfit she always seemed to wear; that black shirt which covered most of her body and the top part of a long black skirt which dragged along behind her.

“You needed something,” it was more of a statement than a question. She wasn’t even directly looking at you, and her wispy, light voice was almost completely lost to the music which was changing from the previous song to [Primitive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-BUCdbCHEY). You’re not sure who this one’s by actually. Vission or someone. You’ll have to remember to find out.

Attention turns back to Aradia, before you give a simple nod as a response, glancing back down below. “It goes without saying, probably, but you need to check the new row of lights we just put in. Looks good, but make sure Sollux put everything in correctly, yeah?”

“Sure. Is that all you needed, then?”

You shrug, “Unless you need something. Honestly, I’m probably about to crash once I make sure Dave’s not dying from exhaustion. Worst case scenario, I take over for an hour or so before we actually close the place down. You and Sollux can call it quits for tonight if you want, since everyone else is.”

Aradia pulls herself from the railing, standing upright. She couldn’t be more than 5’3”. “Sure. I’m basically done here, anyway. Thanks.” You don’t even really have a chance to respond as she steps into the elevator and the door closes. You sigh, running a hand through your hair, before pulling yourself up as well and slowly walking to the DJ Booth which was in the middle of the railing - just a pathway out into a big, square box with Dave’s equipment. The door is sealed tight, with only a small rectangular window letting anyone see inside. You gently tap it, then when you realize what a dumb idea that was, you bang against it loudly to get his attention.

The figure inside, which you immediately recognize as Dave, spins around in his chair and rolls the thing over to the door, opening it after a little bit of fuss. You stare at him for a moment, trying to gauge his mental and physical stamina, before cracking a smirk at him.

“Working hard, dork,” you ask coyly, almost purposely egging him on. You don’t really get a response, or if you do, you don’t notice.

“Needing something, or are you just trying to waste my time as usual?” The response is obviously just his way of speaking, though you can’t help but feel challenged, at least a little.

You shake your head, then flash a rather devilish smile, “Just making sure my little, baby brother isn’t too tired from staying up too late.”

“Ha, funny, ‘cause I was worried the old-timer here might be passed out already,” the words come out clear and quickly, almost as if he had rehearsed. Your lips open to speak, but close short as you realize he’s probably beat you on this one. You give an idle shrug, trying to completely dismiss the apparent verbal beatdown you just received.

“Yeah, whatever. I was just coming to check on you. Another hour before closing, but you know how these people get. You gonna be fine hanging on for a while longer?” The question was genuine, and you definitely do your best to convey that feeling.

Dave, in response, stretches himself out, his wrinkled red T-Shirt and red jeans clashing quite massively in the dark room. A hand moves to shove his sunglasses back up on his face, before he spins around in his chair, sliding back over to the equipment and giving a thumbs up behind him. “Should be fine. I’ll find Bro if I need someone to fill in.”

You shrug again, before walking back out and shutting the door. He’s obviously too enamored in his work to really have a decent conversation with at the present. He always got shoved deep into his work and didn’t ever really want to pay attention to anything else when he got in the zone. Which was always, every time he walked into the booth.

You scratch the back of your neck, heading back over to the service elevator. It takes a moment to come back up to your floor, but once it does you hop in quickly and press the button to go to the third floor, which led to your house of sorts. Completely off limits to anyone not in the immediate Strider family or their friends. Occasionally, your “closer friends” as well, though just occasionally. You are quite the ladies’ man, and by extension, also a confirmed bachelor, though with any luck, tonight you might go from a free spirit to...some kind of metaphor for being together with Jake, you have no idea. Your mind is mostly fried from spending nearly thirty hours awake, and all that’s on your mind currently is sleep.

The elevator opens to complete silence, the soundproof, extra thick walls you contracted certainly making the place nicely livable. You walk over to the first door, sliding your key in and opening it. The first room was just a living room, very wide with two couches and a single chair in the middle surrounding a wide glass table and a flat-screen hung up on the wall in front of them. You’re sure to pull your shoes off before walking inside, setting them to the side before your bare feet press into the cool carpet. You’d probably stop to enjoy the feeling if you weren’t on the verge of unconsciousness.

You swiftly move to a white door with a few stickers on it, mostly stating it was actually your room, as well as a few that you’ve tried to pull or even rip off on a few occasions to no avail. One of the larger stickers was a heart that had clearly been on the door for a long time, though no matter how hard you tried, you’ve only managed to rip parts of it off. The text “Dirk Likes Dick” was written on it. You’ve really got to find a way to pull that thing off, as well as figure out if it was Dave or Bro who did it. You don’t really care at the moment, however.

The door flies open rather easily as you walk in, and you lock it before you collapse onto your bed. Your room is extremely basic, as you barely spend any time in it. The carpet from the living room is also laid in here, light blue and a nice compliment to the plain white walls and ceiling. A few of your experiments are lying about, mostly circuit boards and a few other things for electronics that you’ve considered putting into the club at one point or another. You turn your smaller, but still massive by any standards, TV on, but don’t really pay any attention to it. You glance over to your laptop and for a minute and consider turning it on, before you lean back into your pillow.

With a sigh you pull yourself back to your feet, making an audible groan despite there being nobody to pity you at all despite your very obvious plight. You step over to your desk, crashing into your chair haphazardly. The laptop slides open easily, and after a few moments, the screen flickers back to life. You open Pesterchum, quickly finding “golgothasTerror”. You don’t spend a whole lot of time even talking to him, merely shooting off a message that you’re probably gonna crash for an hour or so cause you’re dead-tired, then quickly sign off and close your laptop. You’d love to have a conversation that you’re sure would be filled to the absolute brim with whimsy and excitement, but you really can’t even fathom doing anything other than sleeping at the moment.

You sit down on the side of your bed once more, grabbing the remote and turning your TV off. Normally you can’t sleep without some kind of background noise, but you’re pretty sure that you’re gonna have to listen for Jake to use the intercom system or for a knock at your door. Besides that, you seriously doubt you’re going to have any issues whatsoever with falling asleep. You pull your shades off your face, tucking them into your shirt by a single leg, then fall back down onto the bed once more. A hand comes to your face, gently resting over your eyes which were previously burning just from being open and alert for so long.

You start to trail off with your thoughts, though it’s very quickly apparent you’re not going to be able to think anything over with how fast you’re losing consciousness. Your vision slowly starts to fade to black, your senses dulling slowly as the embrace of sleep slowly starts to take you.

It’s already been a really long day, and for some reason, you have the feeling that it’s going to be even longer tomorrow. You suppose, though, that you’ll cross that metaphorical bridge when you get to it. For now, you just really want to be able to sleep, if only for a little bit.


End file.
